The Fate
by Learlorde
Summary: The aftermath of when Dwight shoots Daryl. Decided to turn this one-shot into a full story.
1. Downed by Blood

**Author's Notes:**

Hello there, name's Learlorde. I've never written a WD fanfiction, only so far been working on an Avenger's story.

However, I was kinda dissatisfied in a way with the WD finale. I'm a huge Daryl fan, I absolutely love his development and have been a fan since his first appearance. I'll be honest, I was not expecting Daryl to get shot and when he did I actually thought he got killed. Nevertheless, about a second later I realized it wasn't a head shot. And I was so intrigued to find out what happened afterwards, but unfortunately we don't even get a glimpse in the 90 minute finale.

So, I wrote this in tribute to what might have happened afterwards.

Thanks, and please enjoy!

* * *

 **1**

 **Downed by Blood**

* * *

An ashen scent tainted the crisp autumn of the forest; later journeying as a thin haze. It had been awhile, trailing Dwight's posse as they pressed deeper into the woods, shuffling through the dying leaves with Glenn and Michonne as their prisoners. Daryl lightly patrolled the temporary camp from afar, taking careful steps as he studied the Saviors hiving about the crackling fire. Rosita wasn't too far from him, examining the other Saviors that would frequently come and go. Georgia's devil sun was nearly at high noon by the time the Saviors were scattered the most; off doing who knows what. In that moment, the hunter sealed his grip tighter on the crossbow, while gazing over to Rosita; her hands glued to the rifle, and her expression mirroring Daryl's urgency for revenge. Just one bite, just one taste of the justice that was now-a-days. That's all they needed, and they could go home. Sure as hell it was a stupid idea, but Rosita joy rided it anyway; Dennis deserved this. With a mutual nod, they both tentively wove around the brush and up behind the trees. Daryl could clearly see them, Glenn and Michonne, bounded and gagged not too far away. Raising a finger to his mouth in a hush, the recruiter lifted his crossbow. Glenn continued to mumble in warning, though... and then Daryl heard it: _click_.

"Hi Daryl," the rusty voice muttered smoothly behind him. Just the thought of Dwight made Daryl's lip twitch, but the Alexandrian could feel himself falling still. _Shit_.

Oh, the rage and guilt that rushed through the Archer's veins… For a short moment, Daryl was hesitant about throwing in a white flag. All he wanted was to turn on his heels and shoot an arrow through Dwight's eye. Daryl could sense the brisk metal of the pistol trained on him, though, and it only got worse when his eyes found his friends. There was a calm yet fearful look spitting in their eyes as they silently pleaded for him to abort the usual risk; because this was different, these people were different. It took a lot of strength to swallow the rash thoughts charging Daryl's mind, but as the Saviors' closed in on him and Rosita, he realized their options were strained. So, he finally dropped the weapon as Rosita did and began turning around - _BANG_

* * *

Crimson splattered against the bark and rained all over the dirt. Glenn couldn't hear anything over the screams in his head, the ones he tried vocalizing aside Michonne's as Daryl collapsed to the ground… _No, no, he couldn't be dead…_ Frantically, he thrashed, trying to rustle with the rope that bitterly restricted his hands. Several times, he tried denying the sudden pit they'd crawled into, but seeing the fallen archer laying motionless; the white shock nailed to Rosita's face. Then there was the blood hanging in the bark, slowing crying its way down the trunk. Glenn tried prying his gaze from the red that seeped from beneath Daryl, from his back, the scarlet that licked his hair. Maybe it wasn't real. Hell, everything was real.. all the blood and deaths, the family they lost.

"You'll be alright." The sudden comment from Dwight forced Glenn's attention towards the Saviors that gripped Daryl by the shoulders. Blood continued to drip the distance of the hunter's shoulder and the dirt, but Glenn nearly sighed in painful relief; hearing the harrowed grunt from his friend as they dragged him over to a tree, leaning him up against it. As they did, Dwight picked up Daryl's crossbow and handed it off towards another Savior. Briefly, Glenn glanced at Michonne; all the worry, all the fear, the realization of the dire situation. It was choking on her too. "I suggest not trying anything," Dwight said, approaching Glenn and Michonne as he flicked the gun towards Daryl in effect, "he's still got another shoulder." Glenn shifted his concern clouded eyes back to Daryl; large splashes of blood clinged to his neck, while red still trickled from the bullet hole… wherever it was. So much blood covered Daryl's shoulder, Glenn couldn't even make out where it was located, but this was serious, shoulder wound or not; their friend was barely conscious, obviously in a deteriorating condition from the point blank injury.

The Saviors occupied Rosita's weapons before herding her over next to Glenn; tying her hands and kneeling down on the foliage. It took a few times mumbling _Are you okay?_ before Rosita timidly whispered, "Yeah." Gritting his teeth, Glenn tugged at the bind; he winced as the rope began cutting at his skin. Rosita started to resist her restraints as well, but Michonne urgently called to them through the gag. They both knew what she was telling them.. _Doing this would get Daryl killed_ _._ Oh, they needed to find a way out, but the Saviors had Daryl as leverage...

* * *

Warmth sprayed Daryl's skin the moment the gunshot shattered through his ears. He instantly crashed to his side, splotches of darkness hinging the archer's vision as mauling pain penetrated through any adrenaline left in his blood. The ringing in his ears failed to suck in any other sound. Everything had fallen quiet, even the messages that nipped at Daryl to get to his feet. It was all gone, it was all limp... _Was this it? Was this his end?_ After all, he could hardly tell where the blood was coming from. The hunter couldn't pull his mind from the black hole it was rapidly falling through; the only memory that flashed in his head was his blood, outstretched and drowning his view of Glenn and Michonne. The liquid washing over the horror living in their eyes- _Oh_. Daryl released a harsh grunt, he could feel the sharp pain fang at his right shoulder and branch towards his chest as the Saviors grabbed him. Through the pulsing blur, Daryl only caught images of earth, feet, hands, Dwight... But then he saw them: Glenn, Michonne…. Their eyes were full of bewilderment, which was tripled when Rosita joined them not to far away. The archer tried his hardest to keep his eyes on them, but his gaze continued to fall as unconsciousness dangerously loomed.

Daryl soon felt his back hit a tree, and he aimed to take a steady breath as the pain seared again. But, his eyes fell shut as he released a shallow wince. _"Listen, Daryl,"_ the words were muffled, but Daryl merely looked up as Dwight knelt before him. The hissing gunfire that deafened Daryl began to cease as the Savior's voice pressed on, "You spared my life, I spared yours- we're square. But I'll be honest, I don't want to kill you. You seem like a good guy." The Alexandrian abided to hold a cold stare on Dwight's fading frame. "Unfortunately, I will kill you if you try anything stupid, which I know you have a habit of doing. So please don't," Dwight finished, getting to his feet. He then pivoted to Michonne, Glenn, and Rosita again. "I'm considering removing those gags, but if I hear any screaming or discussions I don't like, I'll put another round in Daryl. Got it?"

The three of them nodded, to which one of Dwight's people, a woman, came behind Glenn and Michonne to undo the gags. When she did, they all kept their mouths shut and Dwight acknowledged with a smirk, "Good." As he started moving away, he paused once more beside Daryl and pointed the gun towards him. "I'm telling you, Daryl, stay down," he said, adding as he put the firearm down, "We'll find you a blanket or towel or something..." With a crucial grunt, Daryl leaned his head back against the tree as Dwight's footsteps dissolved.

His eyes met the sky, shrouded in dust as the archer's eyesight continued falling in and out. What was he doing? He shouldn't be sitting here, he should be doing something. Pain persisted to gnaw at Daryl's shoulder, and shot along his back, making him grimace deeply. _"...Daryl...Daryl..."_ It was his fault they were all out here, he needed to get them out..he needed to get them out... _"..Daryl...No, Daryl... Look at us..Daryl, stay awake...Daryl..."_ Daryl picked out the heavy words pushing towards him, he even tried drawing his gaze in the direction the feminine voice.. but everything went dark.


	2. Until Dusk

**Author's Notes:**

At first this was just a one-shot, but people seemed to enjoy it and so did I. So, I've decided to extend this into a story of its own.

Now, this follows a different path then the finale and because of that I have room to write. I don't really want to say what will happen after the season 7 premiere, so I'm just going to stick with an alternate course. It does focus a lot on Daryl, but I will also include a lot of characters in this, to emphasize on this group's relationship.

So, with that, I hope you enjoy this story :)

* * *

 **2**

 **Until Dusk**

* * *

Dark clouds gradually gather in the atmosphere. They'd done that for quite some time before rain drops, one by one hit the windshield. Over a long period of time, it just became white noise; the sound of the rain and the wipers. Rick's mind only broke for a second, coming across the CD that seemed to infuriate Daryl- Rick always got a kick out of that. Redirecting his eyes towards the road, Rick proceeded to loop his mind around them: Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Carol... the others. They were all just strangers when this whole thing started. It was something how all this death and tragedy had united them, after all they'd been through they were family; brothers, sisters, and lovers for some. Blood, they were each other's blood, just as much as the immediate families they had before the world fell to the dead... He didn't want to lose anymore, Rick didn't want anybody else to be killed by psychopaths or torn apart by walkers or give up on hope.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rick sighed; he could feel the anxiety starting to jar at him. The Alexandrians were scattered, his family was scattered. Carol was on some sort of mental breakdown; Michonne, Glenn, and Rosita were out to get Daryl back from whatever mission he was on. They were wound up, they were angry... And maybe Michonne and the others found Daryl, maybe they were back. Maybe Morgan had found Carol, and he was bringing her home. They could help her get through this, it wouldn't be the first time they've had one of their own fall to mentality. Either way, they needed to clear their heads, they needed to breathe. It may have seemed they were all stumbling over their feet, but Rick knew they'd get through this, they always did. Together.

The inevitable thoughts simmered in the moments the car came to a stop on the asphalt, before the gates of Alexandria. Sasha and Abraham were on watch as usual, and when Rick was secured in the community, he pressed the break and rolled down the window. "They back yet?" He asked, as drops of water splashed through the window; onto the seats and dashboard.

Sasha was the one to approach the car as Abraham remained on the wall. "No, they haven't," she said with a worried look. "Did you find Carol?"

Releasing his eye contact for a moment, Rick returned, "No, but we found a trail. Morgan's still out there looking, but I wanted to come back in case we get problems with the Saviors."

"Alright, so what do we do about Daryl and the others?" She input, glancing off towards the gate as she wiped some rain from her forehead. "We can't spare many more people, but I don't know, should we go out there?"

Rick looked at her before nodding ahead. "Why don't you get Spencer out here on watch, and we can discuss it with Maggie," he answered, adding as he leered forward, "Is she in the house?"

"Yeah, we'll meet you there," Sasha murmured, to which Rick nodded and followed with parking the car back in the line. The sniper was already at the perch, informing Abraham when Rick got out of the car and started off towards their houses. Beams of light still occasionally dwelled from above, but the wind had picked up. Leaves of trees were turned over from the gail, loose materials rattled against the buildings or homes. It was getting darker and the rain fell more consistently. Nobody was out on the streets, and if they were, quickly fled to their homes for the brewing autumn storm.

Increasing his pace, Rick reached the porch. "Maggie?" His vocals flooded down the quiet hall as he opened the door with a mild creak.

"Dad?" Carl's voice suddenly projected, making Rick proceed towards the kitchen where silverware clattered. At the table, Maggie, Enid, and Carl with Judith on his lap, we're eating; although, some cards were laid out in the middle of the table.

"Hey," Rick greeted as he went up to Carl, placing an affectionate hand on his son's shoulder while kissing his daughter's forehead. Suddenly, he noticed Maggie's shortened hair under the dim lighting. "Well, look at you, " he kindly directed.

She gave a shallow smile. "Thought it was time for a change," the woman said, shifting the credit as Rick rested his hands on the back of Carl's chair, "Enid cut it."

"It looks good," he complimented, looking at Enid.

"Thanks," Enid replied a bit shyly. Recognizing her with a nod, Rick was hoping the girl was becoming more comfortable around them. She seemed to be hanging with Maggie, Glenn, and Carl more often now.

"Did you find any of them?" As Carl fished the question, the front door opened.

The sound had them gawking towards the hall, where Sasha and Abraham emerged. With a sigh, Rick gazed back towards the trio in slight disarray. "No. Morgan's still out there looking for Carol, and we didn't- I didn't run into the others." The group fell quiet and Maggie tried acting calm, but Rick could tell she was tensing up. In attempt to ease the mood, he gingerly gestured towards Sasha and Abraham. "It's why I've asked Sasha and Abraham to meet us here, so we can discuss what our plan is."

"Okay, then, what's is it?" Maggie directed her attention to Rick for answers, but the constable just hoped he'd be able to convince her to stay in Alexandria.

It was Abraham who spoke next as he rested the rifle strap over his shoulder. "We are up on that wall most of the day. So far we haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary, if the Saviors do happen to be out there watching us," the soldier apprised.

"I wouldn't rule it out though," Sasha said, continuing with, "But I don't think we should be going out there in a storm. I'm fine with any other night for coverage if the Saviors are out there, but a storm like this could be troubling." As the sniper spoke, she flicked her head towards the storm clouds outside.

Maggie vaguely nodded. She clearly didn't want to wait- nobody did. "Sasha's right," Rick sighed, turning his eyesight to Maggie. "I don't like it either, Maggie, but-"

"Yeah, I know..," Maggie huffed while burying her face in her hands. "So we wait till it passes," she suggested, after a moment of exchanging glances.

"If the storm passes in the middle of the night, we can leave at dusk, but," Rick placed a hand on his hip as he gazed towards Abraham, "Do you have any idea where they might have gone?"

"I got a thought for where we should start, I'll go with you when you're ready," Abraham acceded.

"Is that okay with you two?" Questioning, he looked from Sasha to Maggie as he released his hold on the chair. "Would you mind staying back while Abraham and I go out? I just don't want to have too many people leave Alexandria."

"We can hold the fort," Sasha bestowed, with an agreeable nod from Maggie.

"Okay," Rick confirmed, feeling the stress die a little.

The to-be mother pushed her chair back and stood. "I guess in the meantime, I'll go check on Eugene," she steadily said, asking, "Enid, want to come?"

"Sure," Enid mumbled, picking up her finished plate as Maggie did.

As his eyes followed the two, Rick then felt a prod against his arm. Abraham was to his right. "We're heading back out, but I'll start prepping in case it lifts soon," he said, to which Rick nodded in appreciation as the duo walked out.

Gazing back at Maggie, he asked, "How's he doing, by the way? Eugene, I mean. "

"He's getting better," Maggie gave, as she took the dishes to the sink and began cleaning them.

"That's good," Rick muttered as he took a few steps around the table and indicated towards the dinner. "Hey don't worry about this, Carl and I will take care of it."

Maggie inquired as she looked at Rick, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, no problem," Rick gently told, waving the chore off.

With a twitch at her mouth, Maggie landed a hand on his shoulder as she passed him with Enid beside her, "Thanks, Rick."

When they left, Rick found his way into the kitchen; running a hand over the smooth granite and eyeing the pans of food. There was some pasta, peas, and meat, which Rick guessed were the ducks Daryl had hunted the other day. Rick lightly sighed, while gleaming out where lightning flashed among the gloomy sky. They were lucky they found this place, Alexandria; the fortune of having houses, electricity, running water, being able to store food, especially meat. That wasn't a possibility on the road. This place was a miracle, it was their home, and they'd fight for it; whatever came their way.

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Rick glared at Carl as he pitched the dire question.

"I hope so," Rick murmured, glimpsing down at his hands before he reached for a clean plate and started scooping up some food.

* * *

A rumble lingered in the distance; the one thing that seemed to stand out to Daryl's fading consciousness. The archer couldn't even estimate how much time had passed; his damaged senses only reviving from time to time. In these moments he barely saw anything aside from fallen leaves, dirt, or caught whispers on unclear things. It was when he started to feel water merely clash against his cold hands, something jarred into his side.

Immediately, his eyes flashed open as he placed a hand on his side with an agonized groan. "Wakey, wakey, Daryl," the prick's words slurred into Daryl's head. He tried forcing his eyes open, but they continued rolling shut until Daryl suddenly gritted his teeth and released an excruciating shout. Dwight had clutched a hand over Daryl's wound, and sinisterly dung his nails into it. "Come on-" The Savior was cut off as the Alexandrian defensively struck a weakened fist into Dwight's neck, but it was enough to send him stumbling back. In the second of freedom he had, the hunter glanced down at his bloody clothes; laying a hand over the throbbing laceration. "The fuck?!" After a brief cough, Dwight recoiled by kneeing Daryl in the gut as he tried getting up; but once feeling the air leave his lungs, knuckles then collided against his cheek. The sensitivity only seemed to sharpen as he fell to the soft earth with a grunt, feeling weight settling on his back.

Vividly, he could hear the cries of his friends, smell the strong scent of blood, and feel the gun barrel that met his temple. Dwight and the archer's heavy breaths nearly mirrored each other; Dwight's of rage and Daryl's of pain and resentment. There was a long moment before Dwight let out a frustrated yell, and finally let Daryl go from the harsh pin. Sorely, the Alexandrian placed his palms on the ground, but before he could get himself upright Dwight yanked him by the vest; shoving him back against the tree. "Get yourself together, we're leaving this place," Dwight growled as he tossed a blanket beside Daryl and sauntered away.


	3. When the Rain Comes

**Author's** **Notes:**

Just wanted to thank my followers, I appreciate the support and I've really enjoyed writing this fanfic series. There's much to look forward to, and I also wanted to let ya'll know **_I've updated the previous chapters_** : added some detail, cleaned it up a bit more.

Anyway, I think you'll like this chapter, and I hope I'm right about that.

Please, enjoy :)

* * *

 **3**

 **When the Rain Comes**

* * *

The fall chill had quickly disintegrated as the day passed noon; although, it was brisk enough to welcome the long sleeves that kept Michonne's skin warm. She knew the weather was going to flip at some point, the way a faint scent of rain lingered in the air. It was barely legible, but it was there as much as the tint of gunpowder from the shot. Somewhere in the loose soil was the bullet, bloodied after ripping through Daryl's flesh; buried under a layer of red like the leaves, the sticks, the grass, the dirt. Michonne's eyes streamed across the soil, gazing at Daryl who persisted motionless; she hated seeing him like this. It was hard keeping herself from calling to her friend, hoping she could at least get some movement from the archer; unfortunately, the Saviors weren't too fond of that. Most of them had eventually joined by the fire, while others scouted the outskirts and occasionally came by to be sure the Alexandrians were in their spots. Not that it mattered, considering how close they were to the fire; the whole conversation was on them, they were endlessly being watched, and they barely caught a chance to whisper to each other.

The four of them kept their heads down, steadily breathing as they attempted communicating few words. But when a walkie-talkie sounded, Michonne heard Dwight speak, "Hey, Leya, where are you guys?" Gingerly glancing passed Glenn, Michonne spotted the Savior; lightly pacing near the fire, awaiting for some response.

As she gazed back down at the earth, Michonne ran her finger along the rough rope fibers that bound her. She yanked at it, but it only made her scowl as the bristles caught on her skin. "What do we do?" It was Glenn who suddenly uttered before static silenced them.

"There's not much we can do," Rosita whispered as their attention shifted to the muffled voice over the walkie. Squinting her eyes from the bright sun, Michonne tried listening; they all did, but there was no luck, just whatever Dwight returned.

"Yeah, we're just off our route," Dwight muttered into the walkie as he lowered onto a log. "We picked up some stragglers from Alexandria. Can you bring the truck, we don't have any other way to transport them." The three dipped their heads as a Savior patrolled by, but when she passed, Michonne continued feeling behind her; there had to be a rock or something, but all she felt between her fingers was moist dirt. "Yeah, but why don't we discuss it more when you get out here? Alright, see you soon," the Savior finished, signing off the walkie.

A defeating sigh from Glenn forced Michonne's eyes on him. He had them shut and his head was facing the ground. "We just have to wait for our chance," she tried reassuring; they'd been through worse, maybe they could handle this. Of course, a maybe that seemed like a far enough dream, even for her.

"Are they coming?" A female voice suddenly distracted them.

"Yeah, they are," Dwight murmured as he got to his feet, "and I got some ideas to share when they get here." Those words almost made Michonne cringe.

* * *

Sneaking across the sky, the darkness painstakingly approached. The day was inching cooler as the storm progressed their way. Glenn just wished it was here already; they'd all been sitting there for what felt like hours, with nothing to do than waiting and watching their friend slowly bleed. Only a few times had Daryl at least duly blinked, but that was it. In the time that they had, Glenn considered asking Dwight if he could go help the archer. That'd be a long shot, though. Glenn knew that, but the truth was that this Savior could have delivered a kill shot. And maybe, Dwight shot Daryl a little more critically than he had intended, but the hunter definitely wasn't dead… not yet, at least. There was a reason they didn't kill Daryl; like Dwight had said, he just needed the Alexandrian to stay down. Nevertheless, with Glenn's knowledge of the duo's hostile chemistry, he knew Dwight was only taking pleasure in Daryl's mutilation.

That was the hard part, knowing Dwight could walk away from shooting somebody with a grin plastering his face. For now, though, he was sitting on a log by the fire, trying to entertain himself by carving up a piece of wood. The other Saviors were off in a same manner; attempting to find anything, even a walker just to keep busy. It was quiet too, besides the hissing fire, an occasional twig snapping, and dead leaves rustling around by shoes. Regrettably, Glenn took that time to finally muster, "Dwight." Immediately he received wide-eyed looks from Rosita and Michonne.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita quietly snapped, as some Saviors glared their way.

"Dwight," Glenn called again, which had Saviors arming with their guns. But as they started towards the three, Dwight irritatedly set down his artwork and got up.

Gripping his knife's handle, he raised a free hand to his people, signaling them to stand down. "You got a fucking problem?" Dwight hissed, stopping in front of Glenn. "Was I not clear that I will slice your friend up if I hear disapproving words?"

Swallowing, Glenn cautiously spoke, hoping he'd convince Dwight enough to avoid that. "Just listen, okay?" Glenn began, but Dwight turned away, uninterested. "Dwight!" Having to bite his tongue, Glenn nearly threw his words bitterly, "Come on, let one of us just go over there and help Daryl."

Dwight stopped and rotated with a laugh, which the humor spread like a wild fire among the Saviors. "Now, why the hell would I do that." Once gazing over at the bloodied archer, Dwight snorted harshly, "Nah, I'd rather see him suffer." Boredly, Dwight twirled his knife in his hands, walking away.

Those words painfully pierced Glenn's ears, and it just made him more pissed by the second. "You were a foot behind him." Glenn suddenly heard Michonne act in support, even though they got a furious mumble from Rosita. "You could have easily killed him, but you didn't. So there's a reason why he's alive, but what point does it do if he bleeds out."

He just stood there, Dwight glaring at them with pity as he parted his mouth with a huff. "Are you stupid? He won't bleed out," the Savior exaggerated before admiring his knife. "But, I guess I could speed up the process." In horror, the trio watched Dwight smirk as he advanced towards Daryl.

"No," Glenn croaked, "no, don't."

The hunter was still unconscious as Dwight fell to a knee in front of him. "Why don't we take a looksy, see what we got here," he taunted, grabbing Daryl's shoulder and pulling back the collar of his shirt; the knife still carelessly dangling in Dwight's hand. A grimace started flooding Glenn's face as Daryl vaguely winced… What had he done?

"Dwight, you don't have to do this," Michonne tried persuading urgently as the bullet hole grew exposed.

"Well, you see, there's a difference between having to do so and wanting to do so." Dwight stated without changing where his eyes were turned, pondering with, " _Hmm_ , seems like I did clip him a little worse than I had intended."

With a twitching lip, Glenn was about to spit right back. The wound was clearly closer to Daryl's chest rather than shoulder. "You're sick," Rosita said, beating Glenn to it.

"That's what it is now, girl," he casually responded. He then angled the knife point towards the center of the injury, tipping, "This isn't going to be very pleasant."

 _"No!"_ Glenn, Rosita, and Michonne chorused in a panic, as few drops of rain began to fall.

"Dwight." A female voice unexpectedly called, making Glenn glance over his right shoulder. In the near distance, an African American woman was headed their way with several other Saviors. All attention was on them as they stopped at the camp, but this woman continued forward. "What the hell are you doing? These people belong to Negan now, it's not our call to kill them," she said, laying her hands on her hips.

Glenn could feel his heart nearly pounding out of his chest and the blood rushing to his ears. "We don't belong to any of you," Rosita input with a bit of fire. It forced a doubtful sigh from Glenn as he shook his head.

"Leya, they're asking for it," Dwight spat, gazing at them with snake eyes.

"Shut up," the lady returned to Dwight before pivoting towards the three. "As much as you hate it right now, you do. So, you might as well shallow it." There was a snicker crawling along Dwight's lips, until she then added, "Besides, I'm trying to help out your friend." Through trembling breaths, Glenn wasn't sure whether to trust her word. Either way, they were still here as prisoners. "Dwight, four Alexandrians are better to bargain with than three, especially if there's an injured one."

Hesitantly, Dwight paused with a tense hand remaining on the knife. Glenn could tell he was still considering splitting that wound open even more. "But they'll know we're serious if we bring a dead one to their gates," he sneered through gritted teeth, digging the knife into the damaged tissue enough where Daryl flinched. Sympathetically, Glenn scowled at the waking archer; Daryl's eyes were cracked open, stiffly watching every move Dwight was making. His fingers were lightly tearing at the dirt, and Glenn wasn't sure if it was the pain, if he was about to snap, or both.

Biting his lower lip, Glenn tried preventing himself from saying anything, and he just got luckier when Leya continued talking, "Killing him now will only create more problems for us. Plus, Negan wants every able body, even him. Dwight, put the knife down. Come on, let him go." There was a long pause, but with an aggressive sigh Dwight let up. He pulled away from Daryl, who cringed as Dwight yanked whatever of the blade was in the wound out.

Droplets of blood flew from the knife as it did, but Dwight didn't care; he faced the Alexandrians, heatedly walking over to Glenn and kneeling down in front of him. Raising the bloodied knife for them to see, Dwight muttered, "You're damn lucky she showed up." Glenn tried keeping a level head as Dwight preceded to clean the blade on the Alexandrian's shirt; he did the same with his palm, which had Daryl's blood smeared all over it.

"Come on, let's start packing up," Leya murmured, coaxing Dwight to finish wiping off his hand before leaving the three.

For the rest of the time they were quiet, waiting on the Saviors as they gathered all their stuff. It was getting chillier as the rain propelled towards the earth, splashing on Glenn's hair and landing on his cheeks. After all, it was the only entertainment they had; the rain or bugs in the dirt. There were the Saviors' conversations too, and keeping track of what they were doing. "We'll take them with us, til the storm passes. After that, we'll see what Negan wants, when he wants to do this thing," Leya said as the Saviors started putting out the fire. Glenn had even searched for something sharp as Michonne did. But there was nothing, there was nothing to get them out of this. And what was worse, Glenn knew sooner or later their people would come looking.

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly drew their attention to Dwight. He was closing on Daryl with a tan blanket and when he got there, prodded the archer in the ribs with his foot. "Hey, what the hell?" Glenn yapped in a startle as Daryl grunted and clenched his side.

"Shut up," Dwight snipped towards Glenn as he rounded to Daryl's other side, saying, "Wakey, wakey, Daryl." The downed groaned and lagged at moving, which only provoked the Savior's impatience. "Come on," he snarled, driving his nails at the wound, which let Daryl to voicing his pain more crucially.

 _"Stop it!"_ Rosita shouted, but that was before Daryl shakily grabbed Dwight's collar and launched a fist into his neck.

 _Shit_. Well, if the shot didn't kill Daryl, this certainly would. Dwight, stumbled back in shock, but within a few seconds countered with, _"The FUCK?"_ In a fit of rage, the Savior aimed his knee into Daryl's stomach, before bringing his knuckles down against the Alexandrian's cheek. An excruciating grunt made its way from Daryl as he caught himself on his elbow, but Dwight pressed a knee into his back. As Daryl was forced down, Dwight took out his gun and put the barrel right at his temple.

In bewilderment and desperation, Glenn called, _"No, stop!"_

"Don't do this!" Michonne compelled.

Dwight just ignored them, though, and Glenn could tell he was seconds from pulling that trigger. "Dwight, that's enough!" Leya's voice demanded, coming up towards him. It almost looked like Dwight was about to throw a tantrum, but he finally depressed.

"Fine," he jarred, clutching Daryl's vest and slamming him against the tree. Scanning the ground, Dwight then picked up the blanket he dropped and threw it at Daryl's side. "Get yourself together, we're leaving this place," the Savior ordered as he sauntered off.

* * *

Michonne could still feel her heart racing after Dwight left. There was some relief, but it was only a matter of time before he'd snap again, and she was doubtful Daryl would be spared the next time. At least the archer was up now; although he was wincing as he sluggishly reached for the blanket. They didn't say anything though, knowing they'd already caused enough peril.

The hunter barely had a moment to himself; Daryl could only press the waddled blanket against the bleeding wound before the Saviors rebounded. "Come on, get up," a man said, parading the Saviors to help Michonne, Glenn, and Rosita to their feet. There was that sensation, of blood penetrating down her legs after sitting for to long. Some dirt still clung to them as the Saviors led the three away, but they were hesitant and kept looking back. Daryl was slower at getting up, and looked like he was about to rip off the heads of the Saviors trying to help him. They didn't look very pleased either, but it was their job. "Go, they'll be right behind us," the Savior then instructed, and Michonne began walking a few steps behind Glenn, who followed Rosita. Within a few seconds, Michonne was already looking back to be sure they'd gotten Daryl up. They had; threw a blanket over him, and told him to walk.

Thunder claps echoed viciously as they trudged on through the woods; it was definitely better than when they were sitting in hell. The hike was about fifteen or twenty minutes, which was lucky because with each step the world grew darker and the rain grew heavier. For a while they were stuck listening to the Saviors bantering about who was going to be riding in the rain, or wondering if they should stop if it got too bad. Whatever it was, it stopped when they saw the clearing ahead.

Michonne trailed closely to her friends; sliding down the slope, passed the changing leaves and pokie branches. She glanced up once her feet hit cement, there were a couple cars and some motorcycles blockading the street. Stopping for a brief moment, Michonne shot a look over her shoulder as Glenn and Rosita did. The Saviors in the rear of the group shuffled lastly from the forest with Daryl. The archer wasn't looking to good; pale and shaken, but he was still on his feet. "Hey, come on," Dwight sharply directed, making his way up to the back of a truck and opening it. With Daryl's crossbow in hands, Dwight indicated it towards the dark abyss of the vehicle. "You three first, then Daryl will join you," he said, nodding towards them.

There was a short moment where the Alexandrians just stared at the cage they were about to crawl into. With a sigh, Rosita fared towards the compartment, but before she got in Leya put a hand out to stop her. "Wait," she delivered, drawing out her knife and cutting the rope from Rosita's hands. "Please don't make me regret this," Leya finished as Rosita fled her gaze and got up into the truck. Moving forward, she released Glenn and Michonne, who latched her hands on the truck's steel rim to hull herself up after Glenn.

A musky stench lingered in the small, dull space of the truck; something strong enough that Michonne forced a large amount of air from her lungs. The dragging of their feet soon diminished as they settled down, and when they did, looked back into the open. The Saviors were finally bringing Daryl, and the moment he reached the truck, Michonne and Glenn were right at his side. The archer grabbed the top of the car with a wince, achingly pulling himself up with his friends' help. There he immediately collasped against the wall. "No, hey," Glenn huskily maundered as he sundered before Daryl. Michonne was already sticking the blanket, still wrapped around Daryl, against the wound. She could barely see anything though, and it only got worse when the Saviors slammed the doors after throwing them a few water bottles.

They could hear each other's breath in-between the thunder's rumbles, but it was pitch black. "Daryl?" Michonne lightly called, hoping for some response from the recruiter. Just by touching his skin, she could feel the clammy-cold that was beginning to cling to him. "I can't see anything…"

A huge clash of lightning illuminated parts of the compartment, but only for a second and then the downpour washed it over. "I'm fine…" Daryl replied in a bit of a pant as the vehicle started to accelerate.

"Yeah, if only those words could fool us," Glenn mumbled urgently as he shifted around the cabin. "Rosita, search the floor. See if there's anything we can use." On hearing that, Michonne heard Rosita rustling on the metallic base behind her.

Furrowing her eyes, Michonne tried seeing anything as she put more pressure on the bullet hole. But there was no use, and the harder she pressed the more Daryl would recoil. "I'm sorry," Michonne gritted her teeth as he winced. "What can I do?"

Prying himself up a bit, Daryl softly grunted, "It's fine, I got it." He tried laying his hand on the wound, finishing with, "Go help them." But, Michonne kept her hand where it was.

"They don't need my help, you do; even if that means just sitting here," she said strongly. And the Alexandrian knew Daryl was listening, because she could feel his hand retreating. "Trust me, they aren't going to leave anything back here for us."

"She's right," Rosita second, with Michonne glancing towards her voice, "There's nothing." Not even the whites of her eyes could be detected as she plopped down with a sigh.

Glenn scuffled back over to them, defeatedly giving up as well. "How's he doing?" he asked, coming beside Michonne.

"I can't say, if I can't see it," she answered unfortunately. "But we nee-"

 _shrieeeeeeek_

They all felt themselves tumbling over as the truck brutally jerked back and forth. Thousands of something kept slamming against the side of the vehicle, but Michonne was too busy trying to steady Daryl and herself. Within a few seconds both of them almost flew forward into Rosita or Glenn, but the vehicle then suddenly skidded to a halt. "Everybody okay?" It took a long moment before Glenn spoke out. They were all quiet, trying to catch their breaths and wrap their heads around what just happened. And Michonne was nearly about to sent the okay when she felt Daryl move beside her, but gunshots and screaming silenced it all.


End file.
